iFace
by jesse's girl 95
Summary: Sam/Melanie oneshot songfic to Ryandan's "The Face". Please read and review! Rated T to be safe. "Guess it's just you and me, kid," she said, pulling out and heading towards home. "Melanie's actually going to make something of her life".


**A/N: A Sam/Melanie oneshot songfic to the song "The Face" by Ryandan. Lyrics are out of order to better fit the story.**

**Traveler of the great divides**

**Vagrant on a path to life**

Sam pressed her nose against the cold glass of the car's window, her hot breath forming a cloud, as she watched Melanie stand on tiptoe at the curbside check-in at the Seattle Airport. Pam, their mother's, hand rested on top of Mel's head, smoothing the chaotic curls. Sam slowly ran her own hand over her head, feeling the same eruption of blonde. A bright pink plastic backpack was tugged over Melanie's shoulders. She suddenly turned around, and frantically searched until she found Sam, still watching. Sam moistened her lips, glued together after an entire car ride of silence, and stuck her tongue out. Melanie giggled, relieved, and took her mother's hand. A few minutes later, Pam returned to the car, alone. She sat down in the driver's seat, not bothering to pull the seatbelt across her chest, and turned to Sam. "Guess it's just you and me, kid," she said, pulling out and heading towards home. "Melanie's actually going to make something of her life".

**Every day feels a little closer**

**To where it is that you're headed for**

**Given to a hope of so much more**

Fists full of hair, Melanie leaned in towards the mirror, and attempted to coax her hair to laying flat on her shoulders. Her roommate, Jackie, walked in, yawning. Melanie glanced at her enviously, hair so straight it looked good even first thing in the morning. Jackie gently pulled on a curl that had escaped Melanie's grasp. "God, what I wouldn't give to have hair like this, Mel," she said sincerely, grimacing at her own reflection. Melanie rolled her eyes and gave up, tugging it up into a ponytail like always. "I would pull out every single strand of hair to trade with you," she called, leaving the bathroom and heading for class.

Professor Collins walked up and down the rows of desks, passing back graded essays. "I told you guys that these counted for over 15% of your grade," he began. Melanie began chewing on her lip, and glanced around the room as her classmate's flipped over their papers, eyes widening at the grade on the top before hastily slamming them face down again. "You had more than enough time to adequately prepare yourselves, and by now the expectations here are well known by all of you. And unfortunately, most of the class is simply going to need to step it up if you have any desire to graduate". Melanie squeezed her eyes shut. Finally, he paused at her desk, and placed her essay face down. "Any of you who are interested in seeing the quality of work that I'm looking for, talk to Melanie Puckett. You're excused". A hot red heat crept up Melanie's neck, and flooded to her hairline as she gathered her books and tried not to grin, all too aware of the glares of her classmates. In the safety of her own room, she sat on her bed and flipped the essay over to see the A+ marked in red ink.

Melanie pressed the phone to her ear, and stood up to begin pacing as she waited for someone to answer. She simply could not sit still and talk on the phone at the same time. "What," a breathless Sam answered shortly, on the fifth ring. "I'm doing well, how are you?" Melanie replied, working hard to keep impatience out of her voice. "Oh, I'm just peachy, Mel. Ted and I had a nice little chat after school, Fluffy chewed a hole through my left sneaker, Carly is going to Yakima for the weekend and leaving me all alone, and I'm beginning to see that there is simply no end to Freddie's nubbiness. But I'm glad to hear that you are doing well." Melanie paused at the window, looking outside, completely unaware that Sam was also gazing out her own window, 900 miles away. "Don't call Principal Franklin 'Ted', Sam. It's weird. Why weren't your sneakers on your feet? And it's just the weekend; at least she doesn't live there. And Freddie's so cute he couldn't be nubby if he tried," she said as she watched two junior boys toss a football back and forth. "Sam, I see Ted more often than I see Mom. And I don't call _her _Mrs. Puckett. It was too hot for sneakers. If Carly's in Yakima, I can't sleep at her house this weekend, which I was kind of counting on. And if you say anything else about Freddie, I swear that I will puke. On your side of the room," Sam muttered, watching a cop car speed by, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

"Oh, you'll never guess what happened today in my English class," Melanie began, knowing that she would receive endless taunting from Sam if she shared the news about her essay. "They started a contest where whoever guesses the number of fatcakes wins the most insane locker ever," Sam guessed. "What? No," Melanie answered. "I'm guessing. Um…a psychotic pair of teachers took over the school and forced everyone into blue and khaki?" Melanie glanced down at her khaki capris and blue sweater. "No, Sam! I'll just tell you," she said, ignoring Sam's laugh. "All of that happened within the last month at Ridgeway, Mels. We're living on the edge here." Melanie rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah? Well, today—" a voice came through the phone, interrupting Melanie's news. "Sam! You get off the phone. Right. Now!" the distinct voice of Pam screeched. "But Mom, it's Melanie," Sam explained, but Melanie could hear the pleading and the fear that had entered her voice. "I'll talk to you later, Mel," she said brightly. "Are you okay, Sam?" Melanie asked quietly. "Yep. But I gotta go! Bye," she finished, slamming down the phone. "Bye. Love you," Melanie whispered to the dial tone.

**Think you're on this road alone**

**Looking for a truth untold**

She pulled the stringy dough of the croissant, leaving shreds of the pastry to decorate her plate. Forcing a tight-lipped smile, she took a tiny sip of water because she wasn't quite sure what else to do with herself. All around her, reunions were taking place. Mothers that tilted chins up and stroked hair, fathers that hugged tightly as if they would never let go. A grinning Jackie walked up to her, holding her little brother's hand, followed closely by teary-eyed parents. "This is my roommate, Melanie," she began. "Sam?" her brother asked, wide-eyed. "How do you know Sam?" Melanie asked, crouching down. "iCarly!" he chirped. "Sam's my sister," Melanie answered, forcing a smile and standing. "It was nice meeting you," she said weakly and made her escape.

The first floor bathroom was empty. When there was family to greet, no one gave thought to…bathroom things. Melanie briskly walked to the stall at the end, locked the door behind her, and slid down with her back against the door, pulling her knees to her chest. Her head pounded and her throat burned from the effort of keeping the tears inside. She took a huge breath, pulling in air until she thought her lungs would burst.

**Many times you've been close to breaking**

**Giving up and letting go**

**Something inside says it's not over**

Her head started spinning. Scrambling to her knees, she crawled to the toilet bowl. Gripping the cold porcelain with her sweaty hands, she leaned in and let everything out. The air she had been holding, the bits of croissant, the tiny sips of water, the senseless hope that her mom would come through and show up. Coughing, she sputtered, and wiped her mouth with a square of toilet paper. She had read enough to know that bulimics craved the feeling of control. Longing to feel that sense of control, and the feeling of emptiness, she sat down for a moment and waited. Nothing. Rather than empty, she felt like everything had left a trail up from her stomach to the toilet, tracing her to the shit in the toilet. Instead of in control, she felt dizzy, weak, and more than a little nauseous. Crawling to her feet, she listened to make sure that the bathroom was still empty. Satisfied, she walked out to the row of sinks, keeping her eyes down to avoid seeing herself like this.

**For every time you fall apart**

**There'll be a soul to guide your journey**

Washing her hands slowly and methodically, Melanie did her best to make herself presentable again without having to look at her reflection. Watching each bubble pop, she stood frozen as the door creaked open. "You okay, Mel?" Jackie asked, leaning into the mirror. "I'm really sorry that your family couldn't come today. Next time, right?" Not trusting herself to meet Jackie's eyes, Melanie turned towards the paper towels. "For sure," she said brightly. "No big deal. It was great meeting your parents and brother." Melanie could hear the relief in Jackie's voice as she said, "Oh, thanks. My brother can't even believe I sleep in the same room as Sam's twin sister! You coming?" Mel took a shaky breath. "I'll be out in a few minutes. You go ahead".

**But if you choose to turn away**

**There in the mirror**

**You'll see my face**

After washing her hands four more times, Melanie slowly raised her face and peered at herself. Her cheeks were blotchy, and the ponytail holder had slid out. Her curls hung around her face, and her eyes looked empty. But as she watched with a strange sense of detachment, a familiar face emerged. Eyebrows knit together, mouth tensed, and her mind cleared as determination filled her face. Reaching up to touch the streaked, dusty glass, Melanie realized whom she was peering at. It wasn't her face anymore. It was Sam's.

**And when the world crowds your space**

**Remember days when noise was silent**

**Now empty vows, loveless displays**

**Just a sense of knowing**

**You'd see my face**


End file.
